


I want to kill me a giant man...

by oldwickedsongs



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldwickedsongs/pseuds/oldwickedsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>References 2x07, "He's just another old timer." - So is Arnold Rothstein. "Come to my house, we'll discuss that." </p><p>Jimmy and Meyer discuss fathers and adversaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want to kill me a giant man...

“So what did he do to you?”

The question, rather than the tone or speaker, catches Meyer off-guard and makes him jump a little. The withering looks he spares the doors and guards before finally settling on Jimmy would make most people flinch despite his height but Jimmy seems unperturbed. Most things seem to skim over Darmody, and it reminds Meyer of Rothstein a little but without the polish. He thinks that’s what Charlie sees in the guy the makings of something- someone- like the Bankroll; the pieces are all there, after all, the same internal nature, the same unseeing sight and the impression if you wait and watch long enough that they’re fighting demons no one else sees. 

And he knows, even as he turns back to keep his head in the numbers that Darmody won’t let his question go. He saw the challenge in his eyes the moment Meyer uttered, come to my house and we’ll discuss that.

“Who?” Meyer asks anyways, James Darmody isn’t the only smart kid who can play dumb and he’s had more practice.

James snorts, flicking the cigarette that isn’t done to the ground in favor of getting a new one from his case. Meyer imagines it’s to keep his hands busy so he doesn’t have to think about the fact in a few hours he’ll go into Babette’s and mark Nucky to die. “Who?” He mocks, “Rothstein, that’s who. What did he do to you?”

“He’s in the way.” 

“What else?” It’s even like talking to AR; the infinite patience of a schoolmarm stirring in with the tone that could on first brush be sincere. 

Meyer ignores this question.

“…I know vendetta when I see it.”

And Meyer doesn’t owe him a damn thing so he doesn’t answer. Darmody doesn’t back down. Soldiers and Kings rarely do. 

“You must really hate him.” He changes tactics. AR would have kept the course, been like a butcher’s knife through skin and muscle until he found the sweet spot but Darmody is no wolf. No king. Perhaps one day he will be, but not yet. 

“Of course I don’t.” Meyer returns never breaking his stride from keeping count. AR wouldn’t either. “He’s like a father to me. Just like Thompson.” 

It has the intended reaction, Darmody retreats although the way it plays out is nothing more than a shadow across his face. There’s another space between them, widening the distance as Meyer continues his inventory. He owes James nothing, least of all anything that belongs between Rothstein and himself. 

But still, Jimmy speaks- quiet and low, as if understanding is what he’s after instead of bravery. “Is that why you’ll do this too? Point him out in a crowd and watch someone put a bullet in his skull?” 

Meyer laughs then, because it’s fucking hysterical that the boy would be standing here hours before he slays a king like Hamlet questioning ghosts. He’s nothing like Rothstein. Nothing like Charlie or Al either. Meyer tucks away his notebook to face him. 

“Does it matter why, really?” He drawls, thinking of all the choices AR made for the sole intent to keep his numbers in the black, to keep ahead. “All that matters is making the choice.”

That does spook him; it’s evident in the newest shadow across Darmody’s face. Meyer, at least, can hide the sick feeling in his stomach as AR’s actions come into a little sharper focus, as he understands suddenly a little more about what business means. 

But if James gets the same lesson, it’s lost in the tricks of light that play over his face. Eventually, when the car and killer come, he disappears. 

And when Meyer gets to the hotel, he calls AR to check in. It isn't until AR asks if he's alright that Meyer feels his throat tighten without understanding why.


End file.
